


Gasoline Meets Fire

by Toaster_Strudel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore, HOLY FUCK YOU GUYS, Language, More tags will be added as I go on, Multi, Original Works - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Talon - Freeform, detailed surgery, idk whats gonna happen even while i do this, im in love with a trashman, overwatch team - Freeform, ride or die - Freeform, sergical and medical description, strange romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-26 07:16:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12552076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toaster_Strudel/pseuds/Toaster_Strudel
Summary: You took this as your confirmation that there was indeed, no medic here with them. 'How foolish.' You thought. Moving to take the tire up you took it and strapped it to your midsection, with the stomach belt that held your wooden pack on.Looking down to the rat, You softly moved to pick him up as well, grunting out a shaky breath as you did so, your legs lightly quaking underneath all of the weight, and the strain on your arms as you moved them to stretch around the tire, before you brought the Sleeping Goblin Prince around and onto the wooden mound on your back, having him lay there, head resting over your shoulder so his feet did not touch the ground. You shifted your hands to grab onto his forearms, holding him in place as his arms lay over your shoulders.





	1. Goblin Prince In Distress

For a moment you thought your ears had been plugged with cotton, any and all sounds were dulled. The only reason you were sure you hadn't gone deaf was the constant ringing that accompanied the numbness. The beat of your heart came into focus and was soon felt throughout your entire body. The sudden amber flash erupting close to you shook the earth you stood on. It illuminated the dark air. Around you, everything seemed like a warped picture in the stinging aftermath of the explosion. Twisting your hunched body, silver metal leaves, and other trinkets such as beads, and worn multicolored feathers were jerked back into a rough swing by the short looped tethers they were on. 

 

Your stance was wide, or, rather as wide as the curved piece of wood on your back would allow. A part of it sat pressed against the back of your neck, and another against the back of your legs, just under your butt. It covered your shoulders and sides, forcing your back to bend thus limiting your movements slightly. The weight of it caused your legs to be bent, slowing you a bit.  
The wooden shell was similar to that of a bug, like a beetle, and inside of it lay another piece of wood which was flat. This was to hold and keep the medical supplies from falling out or being broken. It would unfold like that of a ladybugs shell to let out its wings when you parted the middle to open it. The wood was delicately chiseled in expertly carved designs. The raised parts of the wood had been painted long, long ago. The reds, blues, greens, yellows, and purples had significantly faded yet it was still vibrant enough to see clearly in the light of the explosions.

 

You turned to look at the chaos brewing for a moment. The light that was going off was splitting rays of light against the mask that was strapped tightly to your head. It was not unlike the style of your 'shell.' Your headwear was also stained with color and etched with an intricate design. The mouth was set in an exaggerated frown. The eyes perfectly circular, the rims full and raised, yet it seemed completely smooth from the outside. Anchoring the mask to your face were two leather straps, one going along the top of your head, and the other fitting around the back, fastened tightly with the buckles that held them there. Bright patterned cloth hung in four wide strips from your hips, hanging down to just below your knees. (Well, if you were standing upright, as of now they were about mid-calf as you crouched). Each of the four pieces hung limply; they were slightly frayed, one on each side, and one in the front. The back was tapered down into points, trimmed in a shiny gold fabric.

 

The rest of your body was covered in black. A long-sleeved turtleneck shirt, fitted to your form, and black leggings. Both were of the same fabric. You didn't wear shoes. Instead, you adorned a simple military green length of fabric that wrapped around your feet and ankles leaving your toes and the back of your heel in the open. It was basic enough to replace, and you thought shoes just got in the way. They were so clunky and loud, and you tended to be both of those things enough already.

 

The air around you went dark again, a lull in the explosions it would seem. That meant one of a few things. One, being that their prize had been nabbed and dealt with, or in more official terms; the target had been captured. Though you doubted that was the case (what with the current amount of guards still on the said objective).  
The second option was that they had had to fall back. A much more likely possibility. And then there was the third conclusion; the rat had probably gone down.  
The Black Death found most things a hindrance or just plain irritating. And from what you knew of the Goblin Prince, he could be incredibly vexing, not to mention all over the place. A beautiful concoction to make the Reaper fume and have some of the tendons holding his very thin rope of patience snap.

 

Making a move forward, you dashed into the lingering smoke clogging the air. The night air was crisp and cold, only making the smoke feel warmer in contrast. The smell of fire and sulfur was also tainting the clarity of the night. Moving behind a wall, you crept along it, coming in swiftly to the location. You could hear small pieces of rubble still tumbling to the floor in the backlash of the explosion. Coming to a stop, you lowered yourself into a crouch. Kneeling closer to the ground than you already were. Taking in a deep, low breath, you pressed your side against the cobble wall, before peeking your head out slowly, cautiously. You stilled yourself, coming up with nothing after scanning the surrounding space, you swiftly hiked yourself up into your lowered stand before you tiptoed forward. The only sound being the light, soft jingling of the beads and silver leaves dangling around your head.

 

You made quick do of scanning around for a body, checking the debris first, before moving away. Once again settling yourself close to the ground, the bladed middle finger on your right hand made a sharp tapping sound that fitted in with the soft jingling of your trinkets. Hopefully, this was unnoticed by anyone. The popping firecracker sounds that sailed close to you made for an excellent cover to any noise you made.  
Smoke was getting sucked into your lungs sharply before you let it out with a low, shallow wheeze, doing the best you could to not cough as you crawled forward. Lifting both your middle fingers to keep the tools that lay on them from touching the ground. You weren't sure what you were going to find, but you knew what you didn't want to come across.  
Your hopes came crashing down when you spotted the body lying limp on the earth ahead. Pasty white skin smudged in black and grey. 

 

You had wished that it was option two, or even the miraculous option one. But here he lay. Crawling forward in a lizard-like motion, you might as well have seemed a demon slithering from hell instead of someone with good intentions toward the injured individual before you. Reaching him, you tucked one arm over the rat as you started to examine him. Gently you turned the Junker from his side, onto his back. Your eyes immediately focused on the red seeping from his stomach. He had been shot.

 

Looking around, you moved to stand over his legs before crouching down, grabbing ahold of him under his arms and bringing his limp, heavy body forward to rest against you. You did quick work to unclasp the tire from his back. It unlatched moments later with a loud clang and thump as it settled onto a flat side. Leaning back, you allowed his head to fall against your shoulder as you reached behind you, clicking open a small boxed compartment in your wooden back-pack by pressing your knuckles into it. It popped open, and you bent your wrist to slip your hand in, grabbing a roll of cloth. Closing it quickly before you unraveled some of it, you wrapped your arms around the Australian. Taking the end in your other hand, you began to wrap it around his midsection tightly. Over the wound, again and again, before you ripped the end into two long strips. Taking one of the strips, you reversed it to wrap it the other way before finally bringing it around to his front. Meeting the other end, you tied the pieces together. Then you laid him back down gently.

 

Taking a deep breath, you lifted your gaze to look around once more. Then you moved your hands to his head, keeping the blades clear of his form as you removed the comms device you had seen many of the members use. You set it up on your ear before taking a listen.

 

From what you knew, the Cowboy, the Russian, the Soldier, and of course, the Pig were here. However, you wanted to make sure, if there was a medic here. Like the Angel, the Monk, or the DJ. The first thing that came through the comms was the popping and cracking of guns, and then a honey sweet southern drawl as deep as the sea.  
"Now, I ain't giving orders here, but I reckon that it'd be a mighty fine idea to fall back right about now."  
There was a slight worry in his voice, and there was hardly a heartbeat before there was a response. T]his voice was gruff, like gravel grinding together, the Soldier.  
"It's the only choice we have right now, everybody, fall back."  
The words were crisp, commanding, and strong, even though he sounded pissed. There was a harmonious agreement over the comms, before a deep soft voice came through, heavy in accent.  
"Vhere is za' Rodent?"  
The Russian, no doubt about it. There was a brief pause before the deepest grunt you had ever heard filtered through in acknowledgment. 

 

The lack of any professional medical response convinced you instantly that there was indeed, no healer there with them.  
'How foolish,' you thought.  
Moving to pick the tire up, you strapped it to your midsection with the stomach belt that held your wooden pack on. Looking down to the rat, you softly moved to hoist him up as well. Grunting out a shaky breath as you did so, your legs lightly shook underneath the dead weight. Your arms strained as you moved them to stretch around the tire before you settled the Sleeping Goblin Prince onto the wooden mound on your back. His form lay there with his head resting on your shoulder; his feet did not touch the ground. You shifted your hands to grab onto his forearms, holding him in place.

 

Pushing yourself up, you moved, turning to the left as you started forward. Carrying the Rat was an abnormal weight for you, and you could only move slowly. You only hoped that you could reach the dropship before it was too late. But part of you knew not to worry. You knew that they would hold back, waiting for the rat to come galloping along. What a surprise they were in for!  
From the continued conversation going on, Soldier had listed off the location to meet up. The Cowboy had insisted that the Junker had most likely fried his comm like he sometimes did, due to the heat and unpredictability of the Goblin who was now on your back. There was a reluctant agreement of this on the comm which reassured you that you had time if they were expecting the Junker.  
You groaned as you were once more forced to keel over. One of the spikes on the tire was going in-between your legs uncomfortably. Your head was left tilting to the side to avoid another blade as you moved onto all fours again, scrambling up a set of stone steps.

 

Reaching the top, you continued for a moment before you almost fell over. Shoving yourself up with a grunt, your hands flew to the Junkers arms to grab ahold of him again. There was a warmth spreading throughout your body; your muscles were hot as if they had been burned. You slithered forward, your breath coming out in huffs, muffled by the wood of your mask. Popping sounds fired off again, and you had to turn yourself to face in the opposite direction, moving to slide your feet over the cobblestone road. Unlike before, these bullets were meant for you and hit the ground nearby, inches away. Rock and stone popped up from the ground where they hit and following their trajectory with hidden eyes; your gaze came to see that of The Black Death himself, far, far too close for comfort. A hissing sound came from you, up your throat and out between your lips like an unwanted steam. You were no kettle.  
Turning on your toe, you moved to hobble the fuck out of there, once again like some creature from hell, though all the weight hanging on you made it difficult. But you would not let the Black Plague catch you, or this Overwatch operative today.

 

Sliding around the next corner, you moved onto all fours again, hunching forward and not bothering to lift the tools that lay on your hands up and off of the ground. The clickity clack of each step you took with your hands sounded out as you scurried along. Up another flight of steps you went, huffing, wheezing and puffing. The air behind the wooden mask was becoming humid, and stale, not having enough time to air out more before you took another breath.

 

There it was, The dropship. It seemed as though most of the team that had been assigned was on it, the back open with the Hog standing on the ground just off of the ramp, seemingly scanning the land before him, shrapnel gun in one of his giant hands. The corner you had just turned, crumbled as another reign of bullets hit it. This caused the hulking form of Roadhog to turn his gaze in your direction. You hoped, with all of your might that he would take his aim behind you, seeing as his partner was currently hitching a ride on your back. Shrapnel scattered and shot overhead, and you let out an even harsher exhale of relief.

 

Hiking up the ramp as you passed the Hog, he backtracked behind you. You stopped yourself once you were a reasonable distance from the loading dock. But rather than a cheerful, welcoming committee, you found a pulse rifle was pointed right at you. This didn't bother you as much as it should. Instead, you took no mind to it as your hands lifted and undid the belt strap holding the rip tire to your chest. It fell to the ground with a loud thump and clank similarly to how it had the first time. Shuffling to the side, clawed hands moved to grab hold of the body on top of you. You took a step forward to avoid the clumsy grasp of whoever was trying to remove the Junker from you from behind. Lowering your right shoulder to the ground, you grabbed ahold of his side as you gently, yet hurridly slid him off of you and onto the grated metal ground. Sitting up a bit, you moved your arms through the backpack straps of the wooden shell, letting it thud to the ground next to you as you shift your hands on to the top of it. Going to the top point, nimble fingers unhooked the lock, before sliding the two parts open. There were many types of medical looking things, plants, small glass globes filled with thick red liquids and much much more in the various compartments. 

 

You grabbed a hooked needle, a specific string (that looked an awful lot like mare's mane), a glass jar filled with a thick green paste, strips of cloth, and what was assumed to be water or alcohol. Jingles were sounding out as you grabbed a strip of cloth. Uncorking the bottle filled with clear liquid; it was alcohol, you drenched the piece of fabric. Sitting the bottle upright, you moved the cloth into your hands, rubbing vigorously, before paying special attention to your middle fingers.  
On the right, there was something of a scalpel, sharp, more so a mix of a knife and claw really, almost velociraptor-like. It took up the entire finger, small screws taking place in the middle on the top, to allow a small bend if you needed it. The blade stopped at the knuckle that ran into the hand, leather and copper wire anchoring it to your wrist, forming a glove, allowing all of the other fingers free, rather than covering them. The left hand was similar, only no blade, much more rounded, and a raised compartment on the back of the hand, the tip of the middle fingers 'claw' coming out with about two parts of an inch needle from underneath, as if coming out from underneath a nail.

 

Tossing away the cloth, you grabbed a new one, repeating the process of soaking it before you took your bladed hand, taking it to the Junkers wrapped stomach. Tucking the tip of the knife underneath the bandages, you roughly pulled down, cutting through it with ease before pulling it away. You heard a quiet, drawled out "Well, shit." From the Cowboy. You looked up for a brief moment, the Hog was closest to you, sitting on one of the long built-in benches that lined each one of the walls. He was bent forward, forearms resting on his knees, the blank pig mask looking at the two of you. Your masked self, and the other Junker that lay underneath your kneeling form. The Russian had her hand held onto the top of the Soldier's rifle, looking at him with furrowed brows while his red illuminated cyclops visor never turned away from you. You were in the air now, you assumed.

 

You were somewhat surprised at the lack of communication they had attempted with you, but you came to the conclusion that the silence was derived from caution and curiosity. If they thought you were out to hurt the rat, you wouldn't be here anymore. 

 

Looking back down to the man underneath you, you took the cloth and started to wipe away around the wound. Cleaning away the soot, dirt, and blood with a careful yet firm touch.  
"What blood type?" you muttered.  
It was not a simple question. You turned your masked face to look at the Hog next to you expectantly. Soon after came the gruff, deep response you needed.  
"AB positive."  
Thank fuck. Turning back to your domed beetle trunk, you filed through the glass vials lined up, looking at all of the tops, before you plucked one up. It was about half the size of your head and should be enough to do the trick. The globe was sealed shut, with a thick, tapered needle at the tip. Grabbing a coil of slim hose, you pressed harshly to get one end of the needle before moving to seize another one, not nearly as wide, and setting it on the other end.  
Turning to look at the next closest person to you, you shoved your arm up.  
"Hold it upside down when I say."  
The Cowboy hesitated for a moment before his non-mechanical hand took hold of the globe. It was slightly cold to the touch, but not so much so that it would be concerning. Taking that cloth again in your other hand, you messily folded it up to a clean side before taking the rats wrist and holding it while you rubbed vigorously. Holding the other end of the tube with the needle, you kept your free hand's thumb over part of his vein to let it swell just slightly before you laced the mettle into his skin, allowing it to slide into the vein neatly. You turned to grab another stip of cloth, wrapping it around once before tying it off.

 

Taking the suture string, you threaded the needle through halfway before you set it down again, off to the side to be picked up once you had finished. Looking up to the Cowboy, you nodded your head at him with a jingle of the trinkets.  
"Turn it."  
He did so with no complaints, and the blood started to flow through the tube. You watched it with the eye of a hawk before pinching it once it got right up to the needle. A trickle of blood seeped up, and you turned the tube on the needle. There was a small hole that would allow the air to seep out of the tube, and turning it would enable the small block in it to open, and close off the hole to allow the blood to enter his body.  
Letting the line go, you turned again before shuffling forward a bit, you finally lowered yourself, moving your hands to the wound. It was about three and a half inches underneath the second false rib. Lightly, you placed your right middle finger an inch and a half over top of the wound before pressing down. The skin resisted a moment before giving way, allowing the blade to sink in just a bit before you lightly pulled down. It glided through like a knife through still slightly cold butter. Once to the bullet wound, you mimicked the movement again, only this time coming from the bottom, turning your hand and pulling it upward, to the bullet wound and not away.

 

Gently, yet firmly, you pulled the skin, and thin (concerningly thin) amount of fat away. It was not as deep as you had thought, and you thanked the clouds for it. Moving back, you used one hand to reach into your medical dome, the other staying pressed to the wound, before turning back to the poor Junker. Slipping the pointed thumb ring on, it sat around your nail, and the pad, coming out like a thin claw was curved slightly. Coming close once again, you moved your middle finger and thumb together, before pressing the instruments into the hole, following the trail of the bullet till you felt it. Your shoulders instantly released some pressure, relief washing over you as you found nothing too dangerous had been nicked or hit. Moving, so the two claws started to slide down the sides of the bullet, you came to press on its sides, careful, careful. Slowly, you started to pull it up, using one of your pointer fingers to help you along as you finally slid it out.

 

Moving your hand, you set the bullet off to the side, slipping the ring off and setting it next to the cause of the trouble. Grabbing the needle, you moved to start on the muscle; a simple two sutures would do. Curling the horseshoe needle in, you pulled the two stretches of string through one side, before going and doing the same with the other. Tying it off nice and snug, you lifted your fingers back a bit, the right middle one coming down to cut the string nice and close. Repeating this process, you moved back a layer and started to pull the hooked needle through his skin.  
Snipping the string once again, you placed it to the side before you grabbed more cloth, and the alcohol bottle. Drenching the many pieces again, you set the bottle to the side before taking one of the pieces. Cleaning your hands and the tools stained in blood, before picking up a new piece of fabric. Moving to clean up the blood around the wound, you grabbed one pore, and simply lay it over the now stitched skin for a moment.

 

Sitting up, you gave a deep sigh. Grabbing hold of all the used fabric, you lay it all together in a pile, before you moved to clean and put everything else back away in its rightful spot. That is, of course, the green paste. Once you had that out, you moved to the side of your case again, clicking another pocket open, and pulling out a gauze roll. Moving back to the poor Junker, you picked the cloth up and off of his stomach, moving to lay it with the others in the pile. You uncapped the small jar of green. Once it was opened, you slid a thumb into it, taking up a proper amount before screwing the cap closed and setting it back in the case. Moving forward, you placed your thumb on the stitched skin and spread the paste over it lightly.

 

Turning your head to look at the Cowboy, you nodded to the almost empty globe.  
"Continue till its all into the tube."  
Reaching forward, you moved to crouch over the Goblin Prince once again, before lowering yourself, reaching out to softly slip your hands under his arms before pulling him forward with as much care as you could manage to allow him to lean on you again.  
"He needs as much of that as he can get, and that's all I have right now unless one of you is the same type."  
With a slight ripping sound, you started to unroll the thick strip of gauze, before you began to wind it around the Junkers midsection.  
Judging by the lack of response it seemed like no one was the same type.  
"Though from what I know, your medics could fix him up without it. I'm not like them though."  
Once enough was wrapped around, you moved to sit in his lap. Wrapping your legs around his back, holding him up as you lifted his right arm up and onto your shoulder. Shifting to wrap up and over his shoulder a couple of times, you finished and moved to tie it off before setting the rest of the roll to the side. Resettling your hands once again under his arms, you wrapped him in a hug like a hold as you lifted yourself up into a kneeling position, before tipping forward a bit to lay him down once again.

 

It was only when you had finished up and closed your case, did anyone speak. Surprisingly, it was not the Soldier, like you had expected, but rather the Russian.  
"Who are you? Vhat is name?"  
Looking up at the pink haired female wall of muscle, there was a moment of silence. You took this small moment to think about it. You had two options, really, and before you knew it, you went with what he had called you.  
"Kauka."  
Turning your gaze, you moved to tug your shell onto your back once more. Arms threading through the loops before you grabbed the belt, laced it and pulled it in place almost too tightly. Staying down, you sat on your heels and moved to rest your forearms against your knees.  
"I guess you could say that I am a doctor," you continued.  
You moved to place the back of your hand against the Rat's forehead, contemplating the heat with a hum. Looking up to the Soldier this time, you nodded your head. After all, he was the one that you would need to impress; you had no intentions to fight him in his decisions. That would counter the overall goal you were aiming for. 

 

"I am here to join Overwatch."


	2. Deportment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angela is not as bad as previously thought

Out of all of the things that you had expected, this was most definitely one of the less likely options.

 

Your wrists were now enveloped in a pair of thick extended cuffs, a bar connecting them rather than a chain. On your left, the Cowboy strode, and on your right, there was the Soldier. You had resisted when they moved the trash goblin away from you and started to usher you in another direction. It was ludicrous and quite frankly, rude. You had made that clear to them.

 

Purple and blue had started to lightly sprout and flower around the small gash on the western man's cheek, red-smeared about it. He deserved it though; The hick had gone and tried to lift you up and carry you away like some dog. And so, here you were, trudging down a hallway of their base with the two men keeping a firm eye on you. The Soldier had a strict 'no funny business' air about him. You could feel his cold, scolding gaze shooting into the back of your covered skull, but did you pay much mind to it? No, not really. It was not him that you needed to impress the most, after all, it was King Kong. Even so, you could at least try and be on the good side of the silvery-haired trooper.

 

Breaking off from the hallway, you were dragged into a much more open space. On a platform much higher than the rest of the room. There was a glass wall to the left of you and a rail to the right. Down below, you paid no mind to the bodies, at least, at first. There were three, to be precise. There was the DJ, who was dressed down from what you had typically seen him wear when on a mission. The same could go for the woman, her salty shaded hair tied into a braid that wrapped around her neck, Ana, you assumed. You had only happened to see her once, and it was just a glimpse. But the shirt and sweats she had on was a telltale she, too, had dressed down. The third and final body of the small group was mostly false.

 

Robocop, as it was, had been the first to turn his head in your trio's direction. Your hunched and hobbling form slunk along with a light jingle and heavy step, your masked head slowly finally turned to look in his direction officially. You weren't going to mess around examining them with a petty side glance. The other two turned toward you as well. A shiver ran down your spine when you met one eye in particular. Ana's gaze was something else, and you hastily turned to look forward once again. Taking a deep breath, you entered the doorway at the end of the room and were told to turn to the right. Of course, you compiled. This hall was littered with doors, yet you were not permitted to enter even one. Instead, you were pushed along through the base before you came to an opened room.

 

It was more of a lab. Your immediate response was deeming it somewhere you would not spend your own spare time. There were too many things going on at once for you to relax. It was too flashy, lights flickering here, strange beeping sounds there, and was that a- Your thoughts had been cut off by talking.   
"Oh?" The voice was deep, yet curious, "whats this?"   
Curiouser and curiouser.   
The inquiry was made by none other than King Kong himself as he moved down from a chair a little more to the left than you had bothered to look.

 

Turning your head to get a better look at him, you found his expression to be rather amusing. His eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, and eyes utterly bewildered. Then, as he turned his gaze from the Soldier to McCree, his brow furrowed, and finally, his gaze came to look at you. This time all of you, in a calculative stare. Your wooden shelled back, hunched form, cuffed wrists, tightly hooded head, and masked face. You did not speak. Instead, you continued waiting for one of your two new best friends to talk. Even going so far as to turn slightly, head cocking up and back to look at the Cowboy. You liked him a lot more than the Grumpy Old Man, after all.

 

His eyes narrowed at you; giving the impression that your feelings may not be mutual, and he pursed his lips before letting out a scoff. The cowboy moved to cross his arms, head turning to the right as he let his gaze rest on the old grump next to him.   
"Now, why don' you tell 'em what's goin' on?"   
You could not see what Soldier did in response besides the sudden entry of his voice. 

 

"During the mission, Reaper entered the field and shook our group up enough to get the upper hand. The Junkers had gone off after him as he tried to get ahold of our objective. I don't know what happened, but I had everyone fall back, it was the only call that could be made to ensure the safety of everyone. We made it to the Dropship, before one of the Junkers, and Zarya pointed out that Fawkes was missing." As he started to fill in the most important details of your entrance, you took note that he left out whatever had occurred before. Continuing to listen, you also realized he didn't mention anything to do with the actual mission, most likely due to you being in the room. There was not an ounce of trust between the two of you. In fact, he would have no problem shooting you, you figured.

 

"It was not too long later that this individual entered the Dropship with Jamison on her back, She sat him down and operated on him there. It was when we came to take him to the infirmary that she attacked not only McCree but myself as well."   
Before Winston could come to respond, you decided to add some events that were also missing from that little report.   
"Not only did I make sure he wasn't left for dead, but I also made sure he didn't bleed to death. I also saved him from the Black Death, who was chasing us. The Hog can confirm this, he shot at the plague himself." You lifted your cuffed wrists, one handheld into a light fist while the other pointed out into space.

 

"And if I had not operated on him then and there, I guarantee he would have died. I don't know what it is that your Angel can do, but I don't think you would pull out all of the stops for the Goblin Prince like you did for the Robocop. He would have bled internally before arriving even if any of them had gone to find him. From what I have seen, nearly all of you, like most people, shy away from the two Junkers".  
Lowering your hands, you tilted your head to the side as you looked at the ape. No one had spoken up to interrupt you yet, and you couldn't tell whether it was because they were in awe or just being polite.  
"At in this current time, I have come to join you. The interest I have in your group is something that I hold dear, you see." Shifting your hands, you placed one on your chest, fingers spread out, claw more raised than the others due to the curve. You leaned forward just a bit, and your tone dropped, the matter of fact, faster tone slipping into something much more serious, "I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

 

Standing upright again, you dropped your arms limply to hang in front of you. You continued to take advantage of the prolonged silence.   
"And as for the attacking, I would hardly call it that. At least for Mr. Grumpa-lump-akiss. I tend to like to be with a patient after operations, make sure that they live, the normal thing a doctor should do and all that. And yes, he is mine, as I saw it, there was no medic on your missions team at the time. Which might I say, was a very, unintelligent decision on all of your parts." You tilted your head to the right, lifting your cuffed wrists, rolling one hand in a circular motion. As if to get on with it.   
"So not only did I resist, I was made to attack when I was lifted up and off of the ground by deep molasses here, something I regularly prefer not to happen to me. I like to have my feet placed on solid ground, thank you. Though I do apologize, McCowboy." You turned to look at him and dipped your head. He seemed taken aback, but you didn't ponder on his response as you persisted toward McCree.  
"Mr. Grump here pressured you and was not handling the situation as he should have, I don't blame you for anything and hope I can make it up to you by tending to your cheek."   
Turning back to look at Winston, you nodded your head after a few moments of hesitation.   
"That is all, I think."

 

Well so much for remaining on the right side of the soldier. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him silently fuming, clever enough not to lash out right now but he was cursing you in his mind.   
Winston lifted his hand as he nodded his head dumbly, placing his glasses back in a more comfortable place.   
"Okay, well, as I see it, for now, I will talk with 76, as well as everyone from the mission. McCree, please take...uhh" he pulled his hand away from his face slightly as he looked to you, a brow raised.   
"You can call me Kauka," I nodded my head to him, and he nodded back before he continued. "Take Miss Kauka to the med bay."   
He turned his gaze from McCree to you for a moment.   
"You can stay there with no fuss, I'm sure. Though until then, I would like you not to leave. We will send someone in after McCree to take over your...surveillance."

 

That was, acceptable; you expected something a bit harsher, maybe saving a member was more of a mitigating factor than you had thought it would be. Nodding your head, you had to take a step to the side as McCree placed a hand on the wooden top of your trunk, and pushed. Turning your gaze to him, you stared blankly, after all, you had a mask over your face. His gaze, in turn, was narrowed, and you whipped your head around to Winston again, shrugging. 

 

You started to hobble to the door, turning your head as much as you could to try and get a look at the Cowboy as you both left the room.   
"I have no idea where it is I am currently going, so if you could tell me, or show me, that would be nice."   
The man's shoulders lifted as he took in a deep breath before he let it out.   
"I'll tell ya when it comes t' me needin' to, darlin'."   
Rolling your head to the side, you shook it lightly as he told you to turn here and there, and you soon found yourself back in the first open-plan room, only this time, instead of up on the top side hall, you were down where the others had been.

 

Your body tried to slide under your case to make yourself look smaller but it wasn't going to help, you were a stranger in their midst. This time there were two new additions. The most prominent was a remarkably large man. You quickly deduced he was the one that had the hammer? Oh god damn what was his name again?...Heart? That'd do, for now, you guessed. With him was a short, plump woman, Mei. Ice Ice Baby, more like, right? You snorted under your breath. 

 

As yourself and McCree stepped further into the room, you turned to look at the Cowboy.   
"How much further till we arrive there? Do you think when we do, that you could take these off of me?"   
You lifted your hands a bit and wiggled your fingers and claws. The older man looked at your hands, then at your masked face and raised his upper lip a bit, distaste on his face.   
"I don't know, can we?"

 

Rolling your eyes, you stopped in your tracks, you stared at him, hands still held high.  
"Now now, don't stop walkin' Darlin', we best be gettin' there so I can get back an' talk with everyone else."   
He sure did sound convincing, now didn't he. Taking a breath, you shrugged your shoulders, lowering your hands before taking a couple of jumbled steps forward before going on your way. Spreading your fingers and hands out as you leaned back at the cowboy, you let out a soft sigh.   
"Do you need to push me all the time?"

 

This was great, distract yourself with conversation to avoid the other people in the room. Gold-standard plan, only the best for you. McCree shook his head with a sigh, then started gesturing for you to walk faster as you approached the group.   
"Oh, by the way, if staying in the med bay is where I will be for a while, does that mean someone will bring me my food? Oh, no, I'm sorry that was not the smartest question, was it..?"

 

McCree tilted his head back, a hand coming up to rub at his brow as he took in a deep agitated breath.   
"No offense darlin', but don't you ever shut up?"   
There was a moment of quiet as you both continued to walk before you shook your head. The trinkets jingled and chimed as you did so. "I don't know, Do I?"   
It hit hard and came full circle. Amusement filtered through the air, it was radiating and coiling from your body. McCree lifted his other hand as he bent himself forward a bit, covering his face with both. He was probably trying to look agitated, but you knew he was snickering. 

 

The amusement you felt was wonderful, and you could tell that if you did get to stay, that he would be one of your favorite people to fool around with.   
"Alright, I apologize, I will be quiet now."   
You bowed your head to him sincerely before turning to face fully forward again. The sound of a laugh catching your ears and you could feel McCree lift his head up behind you. Your head turned to the group, and you found that the Optimus Prime himself had a hand up where his mouth would be. Most of the team showcased smiles or smirks. Avoiding their gazes, you hobbled past them. You inhaled deeply as you did. 

 

There was a quite strange buzz coming from them, and before you knew it, someone raised their hand. You turned to look back at where it was that you were to be headed, and you wondered if it would be survivable. It was the Ninja who had raised his hand, and you nodded. Yes, this was fine, it would all be okay. Taking a breath, you nodded your head to the door that was on the other side of the room from where you had entered.   
"Alright then, let's get going, Optimus, I don't have all day. The Trash prince is waiting, most likely unconscious with the Angel."   
You did the best you could muster at clapping your hands, the tips of your fingers touching together to make a light patting sound.

 

You received blank stares before McCree sighed.   
"Okay, well, I best be gettin' back..."   
With a couple of nods and farewells from the other heroes in the group, you lifted your cuffed hands and waved one while the other hung limp.   
"I will hopefully see you later, Billy the Kid."   
You watched him shake his hatted head as he walked away, and hummed in amusement. Then you looked at the younger Shimada brother.

 

You took a step to the side.  
"Autobots, roll out."   
Your tone was flat, and the man just stared you down for a couple of moments, before he moved to stride forward. Waiting a couple of steps till he got beside you, you nodded to the rest of the group before you turned and started to limp along beside him.

 

It did not take long for you two to reach the medical wing, and it was then you turned to look at the cyborg next to you.   
"If it is not against the protocol, could you take me to where the goblin is? I would very much like to check on him. They took me away before I was able to finish."   
Looking forward again, you moved your wrists around; they were starting to hurt now.   
"I don't have anything against any of your healers. However, if you were in the middle of a stealth mission, and then, let us say the rat prince had to come to replace you, would the mission go as smoothly?"   
Tilting your head as you asked the question, you hummed before continuing, Genji wasn't answering.   
"I practice old medicine, not modern. Of course, I take into account that draining someone of their blood will not take away disease; I simply don't like technology being used on a human body. The methods used here are very different."   
Looking back to him, you took note that he had his head tilted to look at you, he was listening.  
"And mine tend not to unfold well when it comes to rapid regeneration." 

 

The energetic rush you had to your words had been slowed. Instead, now seriousness was laced within them. It was like when you had entered the dropship with the goblin prince before. You waited quietly for his response, but it seemed the answer you were waiting for, was not coming. Inhaling, you let your shoulders slump, and you rolled your head from side to side for a couple of seconds, walking ahead once more.

 

There were maybe three minutes where the two of you carried on, before Optimus turned sharply, almost causing you to walk into him. Luckily for you both, you managed to avoid it before he reached out to press a button on the wall, and a door swished open with a quiet vacuum sound. You both stepped inside, and you heard a soft voice immediately,   
"Genji, what are you doing here?"   
It was feminine, feathery, gentle and kind. It also sounded tired, and you cocked your head to the side, gaze meeting with one Mercy, her blonde hair was tied up, mission gear replaced with a tight fitted black shirt, a pair of pants, in a light blue, and a lab coat.

 

You looked around for a moment before you rested your gaze on the rat boy laying on a bed, out cold. Not letting the other two hinder you by listening to them speak, you moved through the good ten-foot space or so between them. Standing beside his bed, you scoffed, your hunched form was bending you to the point where you were too short to get a proper look at him.

 

Turning, you made your way back to Genji, lifted your arms, and shook them violently, a grunt leaving your lips, muffled by the wood that lay over your face. The silence that you received did not sit well with you, and when he shook his head, you grumbled before turning to look at the other doctor in the room. Her gaze was already on you, and she leaned back slightly when you had snapped your body to face her.   
"I need to take my case off, so I can stand," turning back to look at Genji, your voice dropped.   
"You can put it on again after."

 

You had tilted your head to the side and leaned forward slightly as you gestured with your hands as you spoke, before offering your wrists out to him again, and shook them.   
"It will take a minute, if you are worried about me attacking you, I can assure you that I am not built or trained to battle against someone like you, so please." Stepping forward, you hissed, "unlock them for a second."

 

There was yet again, silence, and you were about to try and force them off yourself before Genji grabbed the bar that connected your wrists.   
"Athena."   
What. The. Fuck?   
You moved to pull back before a voice floated through the air. "Understood." The cuffs unclasped themselves, and you wasted no time to start taking your case off. Your hands shifted to your stomach, undoing the belt there before taking your arms one at a time through the loops that rested on your shoulders. Taking one of the straps as you moved to stand up correctly, you set the case down before holding your hands out again.

 

Your form was still hunched, but not nearly as much as before. The cuffs were placed on your wrist again, and they closed around them just as they had been before. You leaned yourself back and continued until your back made several loud pops and cracks. Turning yourself away from the Prime, you moved to walk back over to the bed of the Junker once again.

 

This was much better. Rolling your shoulders, you took a good look at the rat. Going from head to toe at least three times before looking at the bracelet he had around his wrist. There was a thin tube attached to it, and your gaze followed it up to the bag it was attached to. Turning your gaze back to the bedded man, you looked for anything else.   
"What fluids is he currently receiving, and what have you done in the time that he has been brought to you?"

 

You had not bothered turning to look at the doctor as you asked this. Reaching forward, you grasped the blanket covering the Junker before softly lifting it up, and folding it back, so it rested on his hips. Your bandaging had been removed, replaced with something else. It was much more spongy and looked more like a wrap on a back brace. Moving your cuffed hands, you brushed your fingers along the material on the farthest side of him, away from his injury.

 

Partially turning yourself, you finally took a look at the other doctor, before moving to walk up to her. Mercy still hadn't replied, why? You were taller than she was, almost by an entire head, maybe an inch off of that. You being six foot one, you had to tilt your head down a bit. Going from a bent over four foot three, to six foot one was always a bit of a doozy for you. It didn't take much to guess that you were also taller than Prime right over there, and you had to calm down a bit over this; you enjoyed being taller than others.

 

"Well?" you moved to tilt your head at her, and she leaned back again, her brows knitted together before she cleared her throat, clearly taken aback at the onslaught of questioning.  
"I removed the bandaging, and re-cleaned his wound, before compressing it, and am currently giving him saline."   
Nodding your head, you hummed a moment.   
"How did the wound look? Any bruising, was there redness, pink, or soft swelling? How is his blood pressure? Has it leveled out yet? Did he need more? I was worried that I did not have a sufficient amount on my person." The questions came out fast, yet even and punctuated.

 

The angel looked at you with raised brows and widened blue eyes. Waiting a moment, you lifted your cuffed wrists, and rolled one of your hands as best you could, nodding your head as an add-on. It was a very obvious gesture for her to get on with her answers. Again, she cleared her throat, before a small smile, almost humored, came to her lips and she nodded at you.   
"It was looking well, there was bruising, but I think everything will be okay." She stepped back from you, and turned to the desk she was next to, grabbing hold of a metal looking bar before she clicked something, and a screen slid out from it. 

 

Stepping forward, she turned on her heel to stand beside you, offering you the screen to look at. Tilting your head down, you had to bend your legs to get close enough to read it. Let's just say your eyesight had never been fantastic. You skimmed along all of the text and graphs, and you let your shoulders relax.   
"I had to give him a small transfusion, but nothing he would be unable to live without. You did a good job making sure he didn't meet an early demise there and then considering the injuries I saw had been repaired by yourself."   
Did she sound relaxed and amused? No that's not the right word... Glad, content, pleased, mellow? What was a single word for all of those? Eh, you had no clue, but that was good enough.

 

Standing straight again, you nodded.   
"Thank you, for both praise and taking care of him. I was worried." She nodded back at you and clicked the screen off. Setting it back on the desk, she turned back to look at Genji.   
"I think we will do fine on our own, Genji; you can go now."   
Ah, he must have told her about the 'someone needs to stay with you thing.'   
Oh well, you were fine with this, Mercy seemed like a pleasant person to be around.

 

"If you are sure, just call Athena if you need anything, Angela." He bowed slightly before he turned to leave. Humming to herself Mercy turned to look at you.   
"Would you like a chair?" She offered with a hand, and you nodded. Moving forward, you let your fingers brush across its back, before grabbing ahold of it, and lifting. Taking it to set it down beside the Junkers bed. Sitting down you lifted your legs and tucked them underneath yourself.   
"I am sorry if I have caused trouble for you, the Cowboy may come in later with a cut on his face that he needs fixing up, and I do not think he will let my hands near him."   
Mercy let out a light laugh that sounded like bells before she shook her head lightly.   
"It's quite alright; he most likely deserved it."

 

You tucked your hands as comfortably between yourself and the side of the cushioned chair as best you could, before settling down. Your gaze never left the Junker as you did so.   
"He did, in my opinion", you finished with a small smile.

**Author's Note:**

> WHoo boy, I cannot wait for this! let me know what you all think and ill try and update this in a jiffy!!


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